


Stumble

by BlueHedgehog



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHedgehog/pseuds/BlueHedgehog
Summary: Sometimes it takes a while to find the right words.





	Stumble

It’s summer, so there is nothing strange about the sunglasses Ignis is wearing. The shadows under his eyes are nothing knew, either. Still, it isn’t rocket science to connect the two, the former a haphazard attempt to hide the latter.

***

Ignis promised everyone dinner, said it would be ready by seven. By half past eight it is, carried in hands covered in band aids.

“You okay?” Gladio asks, because who else would? Noctis and Prompto are too busy being sixteen, and at this juncture the age difference still matters. “Yes, of course,” Ignis says, because what else would he say?

***

It is an unspoken rule that when he is working, Ignis has control over the radio. He never switched away from the news before.

He leaves the room when they  _ talk _ about the news,  _ those _ news specifically, always needs to get this or that, check one thing or another that is always well out of hearing range. A feeling creeps up on Gladio, settles like ice in his stomach.

***

Ignis is late for training. Gladio doesn’t know if he should ask, if it would help, what to do if he actually answers. He isn’t built for this.

Ignis is late again, and Noctis starts asking if he is alright. Of course he is.

He has lost weight, or so Prompto says before he, too, asks Ignis if he is alright. Of course he is.

It’s when he starts spacing out during combat practice long enough to take serious hits that Gladio decides he  _ has _ to speak up.

***

He finds him on a bench in the gardens, watching the sun set over the koi pond. Ignis doesn’t look up when he sits down beside him. They watch in comfortable silence as the sky turns from blue to orange to black. The lights around them are flickering to life when Gladio finds his words.

“I’m not gonna ask you if you're okay. I can see you’re not. I’m also not gonna ask what’s up, because it’s none of my business, but if there's anything you need, I’m right here. If you need to talk, I’ll listen."

The silence that follows is different, tense, and it makes Gladio want to fill it with more words, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It ends with Ignis saying, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Gladio replies, and then holds his tongue.

When Ignis speaks again, it's so quiet he almost misses it. “It’s this whole affair around the senator. It touches on some very unpleasant memories.”

It’s hard to not just jump to his feet and ask Ignis whose head needs to be mounted on a wall. It shows in his body language, anyway, balled fists and tense jaw. “I’m sorry,” he says instead. “Both that this happened to you and that you have to deal with this shit now.” Gladio slides a hand across the bench, offers it for Ignis to hold.

He accepts, says, “It’s quite alright,” when it clearly isn’t. He doesn’t have his gloves on, and his fingers are cold, trembling. His voice remains steady as always. “I simply keep wondering if finally taking action would make matters better or worse.”

“How do you mean?”

His fingers tighten around Gladio’s. “Pressing charges might keep others from harm.”

Same old, same old. Everyone else comes first. “What about you?”

Again, they sit in silence, pensive this time. “I don’t know,” Ignis says after a while. “Forgetting and moving on did not work out as planned.”

“Have you talked to anyone?” Gladio asks, and he hasn’t entirely finished the question when Ignis’ grip becomes crushing.

“I’m talking to you.”

The nails digging into his knuckles say, ‘Drop it,’ but he can’t. Not that. “Someone who knows their stuff.”

“That would have meant accepting that something happened that necessitates such a step.” The fingers of Ignis’ free hand tap against the wood of the bench.  Gladio waits.

“I wasn’t ready,” he concedes after a moment, relaxing just enough so Gladio can feel his fingers again. “You are the first to hear about it, and so far I’ve done nothing but imply. I’m not entirely sure if I could even form a sentence that would make sense in a therapy setting.” He frowns. “Or a witness stand.”

If there is any sage advice to be given here, Gladio is not the man to give it. He is not built for this. All he knows is that he can count the times that Ignis has been at a loss for words on one hand. “Is that what you want?”

Ignis sighs. “It’s what I should do.” 

“Maybe,” Gladio says, “but that’s not what I asked.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Yup,” Gladio says. “Still not what I asked.”

This time, there is no answer. Just time passing between them, and Ignis’ finger intertwining with his, slowly warming up.


End file.
